Zoe & Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker

Zoe and Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker

By

Jodi Redford

“Zoe and Dylan: Sons of Dusty Walker”

Copyright 2015 Jodi Redford

Edited by JL Stalker

Published by Jodi Redford

Cover by Diana Carlile

Cover Model: Scott Nova

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or

dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web-without permission in writing from the author.

CHAPTER ONE

Dylan Walker stomped into the living room of his farmhouse and thunked down his overstuffed duffle bag. “Lucy, I’m home.”

A questionable banging noise rose from the kitchen, followed by the distinct patter of feet pistoning across the wooden floor boards. Moments later, a toddler-sized tornado of energy barreled into him. Chuckling, Dylan hauled his three-year-old son into his arms. No amount of squirming on Hunter’s end saved him from his daddy’s tickle attack. Grinning at his boy’s giggle fit, Dylan ruffled Hunter’s perpetually messy brown hair.

A delicate cough intruded on the moment, dragging Dylan’s focus to the kitchen doorway. Zoe leaned against the frame, delectable enough to eat in her pink-checked shirt and frayed denim shorts. She arched an eyebrow. “That was the shortest big boys’ sleepover in history.”

She was referring to the weeklong stay he and his brothers had originally planned at their father’s house on Osprey Lake. Good as the idea seemed at the time, the reality of four grown-ass men moping over being separated from their sweethearts for seven whole days had been too obnoxious to bear. “We decided it made more sense to plan a few outings over the next few days rather than stay at Dusty’s place.”

Zoe’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah, mighta saved yerselves a few tussles and dustups.”

“What are you implying, woman? That us Walker men are uncivilized roughnecks?”

Her smile saucy, Zoe sashayed toward him, the mesmerizing sway of her hips threatening to short-circuit his brain cells. “I’m only assuming your brothers are a sight less troublesome than you.”

His growl coming out as a half laugh, he tugged her to him and caught her bottom lip between his teeth before kissing her with enough determination and tongue to trigger a pretty pink bloom across her cheeks. Just as he was really getting into the kiss, a pint-sized pair of fingers tweaked his ear hard, earning his wince. Reluctantly sliding his mouth from Zoe’s, he met Hunter’s solemn gaze.

“No biting, ‘member?”

Dylan sensed Zoe’s desperate struggle not to laugh. He set Hunter down and smoothed a hand over the boy’s unruly cowlick. “You’re absolutely right, Little Man. Next time I won’t bite mama. Promise.”

Bobbing his head in approval of that plan, Hunter skipped toward the kitchen. “We’re making cookies!”

As soon as their son was out of earshot, Dylan ducked his head toward Zoe’s. “That was a complete lie. I’m gonna bite ya in all the good places later.”

“Figured as much.” Her lips twitching, she scooted around him. Unable to resist the seductive jiggle of her ass, he awarded her tush a firm swat.

“See what I mean? Absolute troublemaker.” Chortling, she dashed toward the kitchen.

Somehow he found enough willpower not to chase after her. Later though? She was so getting it. All night long, if he had his way.

Yeah, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was mighty happy he and his brothers opted out of the sleep over. Whistling, he grabbed his duffel and journeyed upstairs to stash his gear in his and Zoe’s bedroom. He glanced around the cozy space, a strong sense of home washing over him. Although he’d only been living here for roughly a month, the farmhouse felt more like home to him than any other place he’d hung his cowboy hat during his twenty-five years on God’s green earth.

Of course, anywhere Zoe and Hunter were
was
home to him. Crazy to think that prior to a month ago he hadn’t even known he was a father. If not for his own dad’s death, he’d probably still be back in Nashville. Or more likely on the road touring with his band, Truckstop Pickup. But thirty days ago his world had been rocked with the news of Dusty’s passing. His father had died instantaneously in a car crash, along with his wife, Theresa—a woman who wasn’t Dylan’s mother. He’d been well aware of the events surrounding his conception. For years his bastard status had been a burden that weighed heavily on him. His mother tried to convince him it didn’t matter—that he was born out of love—but it’d made no difference to him. In his mind, he was an afterthought. A mistake. The one thing he hadn’t been aware of? He wasn’t Dusty’s only illegitimate offspring. The old man had been plenty busy setting up house with three other women besides his wife and Dylan’s mom. Which explained why Dylan had seen very little of his father growing up.

He’d about lost his shit when he’d walked into the lawyer’s office for the reading of the will and came face to face with a trio of men who could have passed for his doppelgangers. His brothers had been equally shocked by the meeting, seeing how Dusty kept each of them a secret all those years. Dylan had naturally assumed nothing could top that awkward sons of Dusty Walker family reunion. But you know what they say about that assuming thing. Yeah, fate had quickly set him straight there—in the form of a three-year-old toddler. Once he’d recovered from that earthshattering revelation he’d set all of his energy on making Zoe and Hunter a permanent fixture in his life. He probably sucked hard at this daddy business plenty of days. But while he might be a slow learner, he made up for it with a mountain of determination on his side.

And he had a strong feeling he’d need every ounce of that determination to get Zoe closer to setting a wedding date. It’d been a month since he’d popped the question. Although she’d said yes, every time he brought up the possibility of them making concrete plans she’d found one reason or another to hem and haw over the matter. Granted, school had just started up again. Add her full time music teaching along with the occasional private lesson, and her schedule was pretty jam-packed. And that was without considering the extra hours she put in helping him with the initial startup phase of the Walker Pendergrass Band Camp. All that in mind, no wonder she was reluctant to set those wedding bells ringing right now.

At least he prayed that’s all it was.

He knew without question that Zoe loved him with her whole heart and wanted to be with him. But there were ghosts from her past that still haunted her. 

Part of the reason Zoe kept Hunter a secret was her own complicated relationship with her father—a man who also happened to be the lead singer star power behind Dylan’s band. Up until a month ago, Zoe and Luke hadn’t been on speaking terms, much less seen each other in years. Mostly that was due to Luke being one of the shittiest dads in existence and a raging drunk. The man was working hard to change his ways and make amends for the past, but Zoe’s insecurities and emotional scars were slow to heal. Although she seldom brought it up these days, he knew she still harbored the lingering fear that he’d eventually abandon her and their son like Luke had done to her.

No way in hell. His life started the day she and Hunter entered the picture. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the family they’d created. And with his own childhood holding far too many memories of a distant father, not being around to see Hunter grow up? Not a fucking chance.

“Lan, we making cookies!” Hunter’s excited shout carried from the bottom of the stairs. The abbreviated version of Dylan’s name was the only thing his son called him by. He’d be a damned liar if he didn’t admit to the tiny ache in his heart whenever he heard it. But just like the boy’s mama, Hunter needed adjusting time. Dylan would patiently wait for that first treasured “daddy” to one day fall from his son’s mouth. That’s all he could do.

“You come down?”

He smiled, his heart filling with so much joy, it brought its own brand of hurt. Only this kind was a good one. The best of them all. His boy wanted to spend time with him. If that didn’t make up for not hearing a certain word, nothing did. “I sure am, son. So don’t you eat my cookies.” He tagged the last part with his best Cookie Monster impression.

A raucous laugh and stampeding footsteps in the opposite direction prompted Dylan’s chuckle. Shaking his head, he clomped down the steps.

*** 

“Goddamn, I’m the luckiest sonofabitch on earth.” Dylan stretched out on the comfy bed he shared with his bride-to-be and folded his arms behind his head, his enraptured stare pinned on Zoe as she brushed her hair.

“Oh yeah?” She grabbed his cowboy hat from the peg and tilted it at a rakish angle on her pink-tipped blonde waves. Didn’t matter if the Stetson was several sizes too big for her, she looked damn sexy wearing only it and her white bra and matching itsy-bitsy panties. “What makes you say that?”

“I have everything I could possibly want, and then some.” The statement wasn’t an exaggeration, by any means.

Thanks to Dusty, they never had to worry about anything financially. D. Walker Mineral—the family business he and his three brothers inherited—was worth upwards of half a billion. Plus he and the band were due back in the studio in the next month or two. Considering how well their last album did, this one stood a good shot at hitting platinum. Especially with the full tour lineup their manager was already putting into motion.

A tour that Dylan would most likely not be a part of, considering his commitment to the band camp. And his promise to Luke not to leave Zoe and Hunter behind while he traveled the concert circuit. He still hadn’t told Zoe anything about that part of the arrangement with overseeing the band camp. Judging from the pensiveness that currently rode her beautiful features, it was a damn good thing she wasn’t aware of the entire story. 

Chewing the corner of her lip, Zoe climbed onto the bed and settled next to his hip. “I keep waiting for the day you’ll decide it’s too much.”

“Never happening, angel.” He scooched into a sitting position and hauled her onto his lap. Freeing her of his hat, he stroked her cheek. “I swear to you I’m not going anywhere. You and Hunter are my everything.”

“I just don’t want you to ever feel like we’re an obligation.” She rested her forehead against his and sighed. “I don’t want
my
issues to lead to any resentment between us.”

He brushed his lips over Zoe’s, earning her shaky exhale. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Like I don’t know what you’re doing, you cagey cowboy.”

“Mm, and what would that be, darlin’?” He slid his mouth to her jaw before traversing to the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?”

“Damn it, yes.” Zoe moaned, her head falling back as he scraped his teeth over her fluttering pulse point.

He rerouted the path of his kisses, following the arch of her neck down to her collar bone. “Then I reckon my job here is nearly done.”

“
Nearly
?” Zoe gasped.

“Mm hm. Won’t be completed until I’ve got you limp and rung out on my lovin’.” He slid her bra straps off her shoulders and unclasped the back closure with a deft single flick of his thumb and forefinger. Growling in appreciation of the gorgeous treasure he’d uncovered, he tossed her undergarment aside and cupped her breasts, squeezing them just firmly enough to earn her shiver. “Damn. I do love how responsive you are to my touch.”

“It’s insane the effect you have on me.”

“Oh yeah? And how do I affect you?” Teasing her with his day’s old beard scruff, he slipped his hand inside her panties, satisfaction and male pride filling him when he was met with the hot, wet evidence of her arousal. He slicked a finger over her clit and she squirmed in his lap, inadvertently—or maybe purposefully—rubbing against his palm. He eased two fingers inside her, deliberately hooking them on his upstroke.

Zoe’s nails dug into his nape, no doubt leaving a mark. He damn well loved it. He’d gladly walk around all day showing off the physical evidence of his wild cat’s insatiable desire for him.

Keeping his fingers lodged inside her, he maneuvered her onto her back and kissed his way down to her breasts. Swirling his tongue over her nipple, he worked the nub into a hardened peak before transferring his attention to her quivering abdomen. He continued nuzzling her with his lips, pausing to rim her bellybutton with his tongue while he slipped his hand from her panties. Propping himself up on one elbow, he peeled the scrap of silk down and cupped her mound, putting a world of possessiveness in the gesture. Snagging her bottom lip between her teeth, Zoe melted into his touch.

He grazed his thumb over the sweet swell of her lip. “Remember, no biting,” he teased. “Or you’ll get a spanking.”

“That’s supposed to dissuade me? In fact, how about I make it easier for ya?” Zoe rolled onto her stomach and wiggled her cute rear end in wanton invitation.

“And you call me the troublemaker.” He smacked her ass, getting a laughing squeal out of her. The sound of it, along with her provocative position, stoked the fire already burning hot through his bloodstream. He spanked her again, this time square on her pussy. She jolted, a gasp popping from her. He had a strong inkling the reaction was due to surprise and excitement. The naughty love tap certainly hadn’t come with much of a sting.

He trailed his fingertips through her wetness. Sure enough, she was soaked. He leaned over her and sucked her earlobe as he played with her clit. Moaning, she writhed beneath him, her motions grinding her butt against his fly. When he didn’t immediately take her up on the blatant plea, she reached between them and molded her hand around his rigid erection. Aw, damn. His angel sure knew how to get his attention. “You want that, sugar?”

“Stop tormenting me, you beast.” She stroked him through the denim of his Wranglers, the not so innocent caress contributing to the increased snugness in his briefs.